


just another graceless night

by Anonymous



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Choices, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Dreams and Nightmares, First Kiss, First Time, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Sex, Insomnia, Late at Night, Love, Lullabies, M/M, Memories, Nightmares, Nighttime, Post-Book: Shadows Rising - Madeleine Roux, Self-Doubt, Time Skips, like on a spectrum i'd say this falls between lord of the rings and pirates of the caribbean, mini time skips, this is not a songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29921994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Mathias wished his dreams would only be sweet, only of Flynn and his smile and his kiss. He wished his subconscious did not torment him on graceless nights such as this. He wished he could fall asleep to three kisses and wake to three more.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26
Collections: Anonymous





	just another graceless night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mice/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Salt and Soap and Whiskey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772032) by [Mice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mice/pseuds/Mice). 



> this was inspired by the entire Sea Change series written by Mice, but i'm only allowed to link individual works
> 
> i apologize in advance. but do i really mean it? hmmm...(i do, i promise)
> 
> i promise, this isn't [meant to be] a songfic. i mean it might be, idk i gotta revisit the definition...  
> also, grammarly needs to leave me and my ellipses alone...

He woke again at the crossroads of night and day; hours before the sun would rise, shielding the world from the overawe stare of the Great Dark Beyond. The White Lady and Blue Child had both waxed over the last fortnight, granting Mathias a familiar glimpse of their smiles before they ghosted over the Forbidding Sea.

He almost missed the ceaseless cradling of salty waters, the rocking of the _Bold Arva_ —or even the _Relentless_ —which at least gave him some semblance of a reason as to why he failed to sleep at night.

• • •

_He found himself running through the Keep. At least, a distorted version of the great stone building. Shaw never knew the halls to be this long. Looking ahead, it seemed to stretch on for leagues more. He kept reaching forward as he ran, trying to grasp the gossamer cloak billowing before him, teasing him with the power to control this chase._

_He could never quite grab the dark cloth, though, at times, his fingertips just grazed the edges of the fabric. The cloaked figure ran tirelessly through this long hall as Shaw chased helplessly and endlessly._

_He had no idea what this intruder’s destination was; he needed to follow him if he wished to thwart their plans. There was quite the number of potential targets this runner had to consider, but they were spread so thinly across the Keep; Shaw couldn't warn them all. He could only chase and reach ahead and catch this figure before it was too late._

_The hall seemed to reach its end. A wooden door grew larger by the second. Mathias now knew who this assassin's target was. He should have known all along._

_Finally, his fingers managed to wrap around the edge of the cape. Mathias pulled, trying to pull the assassin back. The mantle was only released from the figure's shoulders, blocking Shaw's vision as the great door opened._

_Before it shut, he managed a glimpse of auburn hair._

_Once free from the cloak's entanglement, he rushed to the door, desperate to get it opened._

_"Flynn, wait!" He called out, praying the ex-pirate would hear and listen. "Flynn! Stop!"_

_He finally opened the door, and his eyes met a sea of mail and plate armor. He frantically searched the room for the captain or the king, pushing his way through the wall of guards obscuring his view._

_The guards stood in a tight circle all faced inward, Shaw noticed. He forced his way into the center, desperate to save Anduin or Flynn. Whomever he could._

_In the center of the ring, he found King Wrynn and Captain Fairwind locked in a duel; Flynn dancing around with his dual cutlasses, Anduin defending with Shalamayne. He kept trying to reach them, to stop them from fighting, but the sea of guards kept pushing him away, farther and farther._

_"Mathias! Help me!" They both cried._

_He froze. He couldn't bring himself to choose: His duty or his heart?_

_The priest and rogue continued to torment him as he remained frozen._

_"You would choose a scoundrel over the Alliance?"_

_"Not you too, Mattie."_

_"You would throw away your life for this?"_

_"You'd leave me so willingly?"_

_"You have a choice to make, Master Shaw."_

_Hot tears streamed down his face. He reached out, unsure whom his hands sought._

_The sounds of hundreds of swords drawn from scabbards and sheaths assaulted his ears, and he looked behind him just as many blades pointed at him accusingly._

_He looked back before him, finding himself nearly nose to nose with Anduin. He looked down. He focused on only his hand; his hand, covered in blood; his hand, holding a blade; his hand, stabbing the High King._

_"Traitor." Anduin Wrynn gasped, melting into a crimson puddle at his feet._

_"No! No, no, no!" Shaw screamed, horrified. What has he done?_

_The guards began their vengeful advance. Sobbing, he stood his ground against them. He stabbed one, slashed at another, kicked a third back. He used his whole body to fight perilously._

"Mattie!"

_Shaw turned, seeing Flynn being overwhelmed by multiple swords._

_He rushed forward desirously to reach the younger man. He reached a hand out to pull him closer, but the air between them only teased him._

He couldn't move.

_Someone tackled him to the ground. He kept fighting, trying to get to his feet. "Flynn!" He called out, unable to see the captain from where he fell._

_Shaw had to keep fighting. He had to get them out of this. He thrashed and kicked, trying to get the guards off him. This was his fault._

A cry of pain.

_He managed to roll on top of one guard, straddling their hips. He held them down by the throat as he stabbed them until they stopped moving. He jumped to his feet, reaching out to Flynn again._

_He couldn't save him._

_"Flynn!" He cried, his fingers just brushing the other man's. Someone yanked him backward._

He felt someone pinning his hands down.

_He couldn't see Flynn. All he saw was the plate of armor, holding him down; him, a murderer, a traitor._

"Mattie! Matt—please wake up! Mathias!"

Flynn’s voice snapped him from his thrashing.

He opened his eyes, seeing Flynn hovering over him, panting heavily. A dark liquid, which shined in the White Lady’s light, covered Flynn's lower face. Two drops of it fell from his face—one from his cheek, the other from his chin—and onto Shaw's face. The wetness rolled down his cheek like tears, onto the sheets below.

Horrified, Shaw rolled out from under Flynn and scrambled away from him.

_'What have I done?'_

"I hit you," he whispered, unable to look the younger man in the eye. "I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to, I—"

"Mathias, no!" Flynn followed him up, wiping as much of the blood away as he could with one swipe of his hand. More blood simply poured forth, taking its place. Flynn fumbled around for the box of matches, looking to banish the darkness from the room. A mistake. "It's okay, I'm fine, really. I promise! It's just—"

As Fairwind lit the candle, Shaw saw the dark bruise forming on the captain's neck.

Too quickly, his reality morphed into his nightmares.

"Mathias. Mathias, please!" Flynn tried in vain to stop the spy's flow of desperate apologies and regretful horror.

All Shaw heard was Flynn's faint voice, calling out to him, crying for help he was too frozen to provide.

"Flynn, please! Stay back!" he cried, desperately trying to put space between them. "I don't want to—oh Light, what have I done?"

"Mathias, no, listen! It's not your fault! I was the—"

Mathias grasped his head tightly, pulling at the copper hairs beneath his hands. He sank to his knees, realizing what he'd nearly done. "I'm sorry," he cried. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Flynn, I'm so sorry!"

Flynn kept trying to come to him like a hunter did a cornered beast. He wildly shook his head at the other man's approach.

It took a while before some of the Kul Tiran's words registered in his mind.

"…I've had my share of nightmares. You've helped me through them. So, please, let me help you. I don't want to see you suffering like this," His voice was so raspy; it could have been a loud whisper. "Mattie, please. I'm fine, I promise," Flynn reached out, grabbing Shaw's hands. He gently pried the trembling hands away from their damaging hold on Mathias' scalp. He held them tightly though Shaw tried to pull away.

Shaw soon felt a soft pulsing beneath his palms. He looked at his hands, finding them held against Flynn's chest.

"...See? I'm still here, Matt. Okay? Everything's fine, alright? Trust me?"

Mathias tried to steady his breathing enough to speak again. He couldn't, so he only shook his head.

"Mattie, you've got to trust me. I'm fine, alright. Mathias, you haven't hurt me, okay? I need you to breathe, okay? Listen to my heart, and breathe. Like that, just like that, okay? Breathe, love. Just breathe."

Mathias found himself cradled in strong arms which held him tightly, rocking slightly. He felt the gentle rumble of Flynn's voice humming softly. For a moment longer, Shaw let the man he had nearly killed hold him against his chest. Then, he gently put a hand on Flynn's chest to push himself away.

Flynn planted a kiss on Shaw's damp forehead before letting him go.

"Are you alright, Mattie?"

He only nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He only shook his head.

• • •

Beside him, Flynn lay, sleeping gracefully. The man was beautiful, breathtakingly so. Mathias couldn't help but admire the captain as he rested. He nearly felt jealous of how he could sleep so seemingly sound in an unfamiliar city. Bathed in silver moonlight from the Lady and Child, Flynn looked heavenly.

How lucky Mathias felt, Flynn's guardian in the far depths of night. How lucky was he that he was on the receiving end of Flynn's love? That Flynn's stormy eyes looked at him with naught but adoration? That Flynn kissed him three times before he slept, three times when he woke, and countless times throughout each day? How lucky was he that Flynn sent him loving smiles every time their eyes met?

He smiled to himself as he softly stroked the auburn waves that framed the lovely face. He fondly remembered how it danced in ocean winds like millions of bronze ribbons; hints of salt and soap reaching Mathias' nose like the sweetest perfumes from Silvermoon.

He ran his hand lightly over Flynn's sun-kissed cheek, gently brushing along this beard, then up to his rosy lips.

Flynn stirred slightly, Mathias withdrew his hand.

"Shhh," he whispered, not caring if the captain heard or not. "I'm here, dear. I'm here. Sleep, love."

Mathias stared longingly at Flynn's slightly parted lips. His heart fluttered, think about how Flynn would lean in, and pause a hair's width away, and whisper sweet nothings to Mathias before closing the distance. Flynn's kisses were filled with tenderness and warmth and ardor. With care. With passion. With love. 

Mathias leaned closer to Flynn, daring to ghost a delicate kiss on the younger man's lips.

The love Flynn showed him was the treasure for which he'd sail through the Forbidding Sea or search the infinite Nether. For which he'd fight blade and tooth and nail. For which he'd die.

He would protect Flynn, Flynn's heart, and Flynn's love with his dying breath. He would faithfully guard such preciousness through every day and every night. Never again would he allow anything or anyone between himself and Flynn. Never again.

He watched over Flynn as a guardian would. He measured each inhale and every exhale. He counted every beautiful hair, ensuring nothing had been disturbed. He listened for Flynn's voice in case he called out for him. He kissed his brow to sweeten his dreams.

He envied Flynn for being so perfect. So affectionate. So beautiful, so charming. So lovable. Shaw could only wonder what the other man saw in him; what compelled him to love such a flawed man like himself.

He wondered what Flynn’s dreams entailed. Did he dream of home? Of the sea? Of him?

Mathias wished his dreams would only be sweet, only of Flynn and his smile and his kiss. He wished his subconscious did not torment him on graceless nights such as this. He wished he could fall asleep to three kisses and wake to three more.

Through the window, the blue of the sky lightened.

• • •

Most lullabies doubled as warnings. The lyrics often tried to scare children into obedience, planting small seeds of fear in their minds, which would keep them in line on their way through adolescence. Then, when the blessings of parenthood came round, these seeds were planted once again, passed on through countless generations.

Tirasian shanties were similar to Eastern Kingdom lullabies. Though the songs weren’t always sung to children, plenty of folks knew their meanings. Though they held promising, cheerful melodies, they were dark songs of superstition, sung to voice fears and ask deities for protection. Mathias has heard that the sea songs changed frequently. That they also tell stories for their people to pass on stories, which also served as warnings.

Mathias thoroughly enjoyed the sound of Flynn’s baritone voice. He could make any song beautiful, despite the twisted lyrics. 

_Some have died,_

_and some are alive,_

_and others sail on the sea,_

He lay on his side, watching Flynn in the dark, who sang quietly towards the ceiling. He looked so peaceful, lying on his back, one arm folded under his head, the other hand grasping Mathias’. Shaw had come to realize that it wasn’t just Flynn’s voice that made his singing beautiful. It was the way he poured his soul into the words.

_With the keys to the cage_

_and a ferryman to pay,_

_we lay to Fiddler's Green._

It was the way he could tell his own story, with words so common and familiar to his homeland. The way he could share his sadness, his pain, his anger, his joy, with but a verse and melody.

_Yo ho, all hands,_

_Hoist the colors high!_

_Heave ho, thieves and beggars—_

The next lines died on Flynn’s lips when his eyes finally met Mathias’. His own heart hurt for Flynn’s, remembering what Fairwind had confided to him as they sailed to Zandalar, as they grew closer and closer together.

Mathias brought their hands to his lips, laying a kiss on Flynn’s hand.

“Never shall we die.”

• • •

"Mattie," Flynn's tired voice called out. "Where are you?" There was a strain of worry in his accented voice.

Mathias turned to see Flynn sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes with one hand and feeling around the mattress with the other, apparently looking for him. His brow had a light sheen upon it, illuminated by moonlight from above. 

"I'm here, Flynn," he whispered, loud enough for the younger man to hear. "By the window," Mathias watched regretfully as Flynn visibly relaxed. He hadn't meant to wake the Kul Tiran, nor to frighten him. He waited until Flynn's eyes found him through the darkness of the room before offering a small but reassuring smile.

Flynn swallowed hard; the nervous tell visible from across the room. "I thought you'd gone," he said after taking a deep breath.

Mathias felt another pang of guilt. "No, Flynn. I'm still here. I just couldn't sleep," he explained, hoping to help Flynn relax again.

Flynn's anxiety only shifted into concern. "Again?" He whispered sadly. Mathias only nodded. "Come back to bed. Please. You need to rest up."

Some other emotion jolted in Mathias' chest. _'Oh, Flynn,'_ he thought, giving up his night watch and returning to the young man's side. _'I don't deserve you.'_

Shaw threw a glance towards the dining table. He saw the silhouettes of the pair of sea stalks that sat in an otherwise empty glass. With help from the moonlight, Mathias could see the outline of each tiny petal. Flynn had picked them from the calmest place in Tiragarde he could find.

Mathias believed Flynn was too good for him. Too caring. Too sweet. Too thoughtful. Too patient, too pure, too perfect.

_'You'd give the world to someone who could never hope to earn it. You fool...'_

Was Mathias the fool for believing he could earn Flynn's heart, or was Flynn the fool for loving someone so undeserving?

Mathias climbed back into the bed into his spot next to Flynn. Both of them lay together, facing one another. Flynn looked like a mythical Spirit Healer, bathed in the light of the cold White Lady. His illuminated features were ethereal, breathtaking.

"Are you alright?" Mathias asked, specifics left unspoken.

Flynn nodded. "Just worried about you."

Mathias forced himself not to flinch when he felt the captain's hand reach for his own. Their fingers entwined. "Try and get some sleep, love."

_"…Don't be late."_

_They had only sat in near-silence in the two hours they were at the inn. The only time they spoke was when Flynn ordered two bottles of local rum to start and when Mathias thanked him for that._

_Mathias simply opened the bottle, took a long swig, and handed it to Flynn, who drank from it as well._

_They weren't even halfway through the shared first bottle before Mathias began to sink. He had asked Flynn here; asked for him to take time out of his day, which could have been spent getting home to Boralus instead; yet he couldn't bring himself to speak. How pathetic._

_Flynn hadn't pressed, hadn't forced any conversation to initiate. He simply waited with the spymaster graciously, waiting until Shaw was ready._

_"I'm sorry," He finally said, near the beginning of the third hour._

_"For what?" Flynn asked, confused._

_"For…wasting your time," Mathias explained. "If you'd like to go, you have every right to—"_

_"And if I don't?" Mathias' eyes snapped up to Flynn's at his interruption. "Don't want to leave, that is," he clarified._

_Mathias opened his mouth to speak, but he had no words._

_"Mathias, you've only just gotten home. You've no idea how fucking happy I am to see you here and safe. Tides know what you've been through," Flynn reached for Mathias' hand across the table. As if to help prove the captain's point, Shaw jumped slightly at the contact. He relaxed enough to reciprocate the light squeeze Flynn had offered to steady him. "I'd love nothing more than to see you cleaned up and rested. I'll tuck you in myself if I have to," he added with a nervous chuckle. "We don't have to do anything. We can just…keep each other company."_

_Flynn paused, Mathias noticed, waiting for the spymaster to respond._

_He took a shaky breath. "I'd like that, Flynn. I'd like that very much."_

_H_ _e felt the familiar burn of salt in his eyes. He quickly blinked the tears away, straightening his face before the captain processed them._

_Fairwind smiled, that handsome flash of teeth which sent a jolt of tenderness through Mathias' form. "That's great. I'm—I'll go ask the 'keep if she's got any spare rooms," Flynn announced, pushing his chair away from the table._

_Mathias squeezed his hand to stop him from leaving. "No need. I have a small place in Old Town; it’s a little bit of a walk, but if we go now—"_

_"Let's just stay here, mate. At least for the night. You need to rest up," he interrupted, bringing their joined hands to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss on the back of Mathias' hand._

_Reluctantly, Mathias released Flynn as he walked to the innkeeper._

_They'd both given each other privacy to freshen up. Flynn had only relieved himself and splashed his face with water from the faucet. Mathias took much longer, quickly scrubbing himself clean as best as he could with the small soap bar, and spent the rest of the time thinking about the_ Bold Arva _disappearing into Apari's storm._

_He'd felt so helpless in Dazar'alor, not knowing what had happened to Flynn._

_If he were with the crew, what could he have done? He was no mage nor shaman. He was not of the Bronze Dragonflight. He knew no more of this ship than Fairwind knew the ins and outs of Stormwind Keep. He would have made no difference._

_The only variation in his circumstance, in reality, was that he had no inkling as to the outcome of the_ Bold Arva' _s retreat. The worry haunted him for all his time in the troll empire. The lack of knowledge had not tormented him the same way as Detheroc had, but it was torment nonetheless._

_He stepped back into the main room, finding Flynn seated on the edge of the bed, nervously bouncing his leg. The captain looked up at the spymaster and smiled gently._

_"You're looking much better already," he noted. Mathias doubted this was true but returned Fairwind's smile anyway. As if he could resist._

_Flynn made room for him to sit on the mattress as well. "How're we feeling?"_

_"I don't know," Shaw answered truthfully._

_"That's alright," Flynn said, thoughtfully. "I want you to rest, Mathias." He gestured to the pillows without skipping a beat. "We can talk more another time if you'd like. I can go, too, if you're not comfortable—"_

_The courage Shaw had lacked for the last few hours returned in full force as Mathias instinctively grabbed Flynn's collar and pulled him in for a kiss. Flynn returned the embrace immediately, and they held each other for just a moment._

_"Could you stay?" Mathias asked, timidity returning. His pleading voice sounded pitiful to his ears._

_Flynn nodded, a soft smile gracing the lips Mathias had just kissed. "Of course, whatever you'd like. Just try and get some sleep, love."_

Mathias tentatively reached out to brush a stray auburn lock away from the angel's sleeping face.

_'I don't deserve your love. I don't deserve you, Flynn Fairwind…'_

• • •

Shaw felt helpless watching Flynn twist and turn at night. The younger man never got more than half a night’s sleep. Usually, he was the one waking Shaw from his nightmares, singing to him, and cradling him as a parent did for a child.

He hated to see Flynn suffering like this. What’s worse, he could never succeed in waking the younger man. Flynn would only ever wake of his mind’s accord, leaving him trapped in a realm of dreams for hours. All Mathias could do was watch and whisper soothing words that went unheard.

Flynn flew up with a shout. Mathias was ready for him.

Immediately, he held the other man, rocking him slightly as he regained his breath. His bare shoulders were damp with sweat. He gently brushed the amber hair while planting a few kisses there too. He whispered to Flynn, reminding him to breathe, not unlike four nights ago.

“I’m here, Flynn. I’m right here, alright?”

The younger man stayed silent. After a moment, he nodded slightly.

“You’re safe, Flynn. Just breathe. I need you to breathe, okay?”

Another nod, followed by a deep, shaky breath.

Whenever he found himself at this stage, he always heard Flynn singing to him. He knew for certain his voice was no angel’s, but it would have to do.

He desperately racked his brain for the least cynical lyrics he knew. Deep in the archives of his mind, he found a salutary melody he'd heard some priests singing in Dalaran a handful of years ago.

Simply humming the tune would do it no justice. The lyrics gave it its power.

The song had eerily stuck with him, as he recognized it as a tune many migrants sang when Stormwind fell in the Second War.

_But since it calls unto my lot,_

_That I should rise and you should not;_

_I gently rise and softly call,_

_Goodnight and Light be with you all!_

Everyone Shaw knew from that time was gone. A meter and a half under the dirt upon which the living tread. Only some would deign to give him a blessing from the Light. He could count the few who weren’t too wretched to share the Naarus’ blessings on just half a hand. Despite having seen the divine energies for himself, Mathias did not believe in the Light.

_And all I've done for want of wit,_

_To mem’ry now I shan't recall._

_So fill to me the parting glass!_

_Goodnight and Light be with you all!_

The Light was meant to guide mortals to nurture their worlds throughout the cosmos. He’s heard that the Naaru seek many things: Balance, hope, benevolence. But where were those desires when corruption reigned? The suffering he’s seen, the prayers of dying breaths left unheard and unanswered, have only pushed him to embrace the shadows more. He truly only saw priests and paladins as puppets in denial. As much as he swears by it, it seems the Light cannot ease all suffering.

_So fill to me the parting glass,_

_And drink a health whate'er befalls._

_Then gently rise and softly call,_

_Goodnight and Light be with you all…_

Were everything in his lifetime different, would he believe in the Light? Would he see the Light as responsible for the good in his life? For peace? For joy? For Flynn?

The man in his arms stirred slightly.

“Flynn? Can you hear me?”

He was answered with a shuddered cry and arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

“You’re safe, Flynn. You’re safe,” he repeated, planting a kiss on the man’s head. 

He felt something wet on his stomach. “I love you, Mathias,” he barely heard the captain whisper through his tears.

Mathias almost sobbed, hearing the words.

“I love you, Flynn.”

• • •

Mathias sat up in the bed, pushing back the covers slightly. He had given up on uselessly tossing and turning. Next to him, Flynn lay on his back, also awake and staring at the ceiling. From his sweet lips poured a song which rushed from Shaw’s ears to his mind and heart.

_Roads go ever on and on,_

_Down from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead the road has gone,_

_And I must follow, if I can,_

_Pursuing it with eager feet…_

“Where did you hear that song?” Shaw all but demanded.

“I actually heard one of your mainlander heroes singing it for the rest of us on one of the Azerite runs. Tall bloke, with a big grey beard and a pointy hat—tall for a dwarf, I mean! Thought it was a catchy tune. Why?”

“I knew someone who used to sing that, back when...when I was younger.” He said, looking down at his bedmate. Flynn seemed to recognize the symptoms of a painful memory. 

_A storm of raven-dark locks. A smile keener than a crocolisk’s. The unpredictable scent of petroleum. A blood-red handkerchief._

_Eyes that fire and sword have seen,_

_And horror in the halls of stone._

_Look at last on meadows green,_

_And trees and hills they long have known._

“Oh. Sorry. Do you want me to stop?”

His heart dropped. He hadn’t meant for Flynn to feel guilty; he’d done nothing wrong. “No, please. Keep singing. It’s one of the better songs I know.”

Mathias should know better than to call the song _theirs._ After all, Edwin had learned it from someone, who might have taught it to others. The Guildmaster might have also sung it with his wife; to his daughter. Countless other ears could have heard that song over the years. It shouldn’t matter that others sang it as well.

_Pursuing it with eager feet,_

_Until it joins some larger way_

_Where many paths and errands meet._

_And whither then? I cannot say._

  
“I can agree with that, somewhat. Definitely different from a Tirasian song,” Flynn replied nodding. He smiled cheekily. “But here I was, thinking you were about to comment on my voice like siren’s song,” he added with a mock-pout.

Shaw leaned down to kiss the pout away. Flynn took the opportunity to wrap his arms around the smaller man properly.

He broke the kiss to retort, “You needn’t worry. I’ve long been enamored by you.”

“Oh have you, now? Why haven’t I been informed?”

“Bastard,” Mathias grumbled, leaning in to kiss him again.

Flynn broke them apart this time. “Oh, but surely I’m the finest bastard you’ve ever laid eyes on?” The captain asked with a breathy chuckle.

Mathias grunted in response, kissing the captain yet again.

_Roads go ever on and on,_

_Over rock and under tree,_

_By caves where never sun has shone,_

_By streams that never find the sea…_

He found himself astride Flynn’s hips, the ex-pirate’s calloused hands holding his waist tightly. Mathias kissed along Flynn’s neck, kissing every freckle he could find, kissing away remnants of a hand-shaped bruise. He tried something he’d heard of; lovers marking each other with teeth; he bit down lightly over the captain’s clavicle. He received a sharp inhale and a hand at the back of his head.

Shaw shot up, worried. “Sorry, did I hurt—”

“No! No—feels good, Mattie.”  
He blushed like a virgin. Though, with Flynn, he wasn’t far off.

Flynn’s fingers lightly traced his skin, cheek to shoulder. The Lady granted them enough light to see each other’s eyes. Blue-grey eyes met green ones as they panted, catching a moment of air before returning to their embrace.

“Tides, you’re beautiful, Matt—”  
The spy silenced the captain with another desperate kiss. He felt Flynn’s arms wrap tightly around his middle.

_Roads go ever on and on,_

_Under cloud and under star._

_Yet feet that wandering have gone_

_Turn at last to home afar._

"Flynn," Mathias whispered in an eventual moment of clarity. He knew what he wanted. "Can we...I want to…"

The ex-pirate grinned for planting another kiss on Mathias' lips. He nodded vigorously. "Of course. Anything you want, love."

Mathias kissed Flynn deeply, allowing Flynn to lay him upon the soft sheets of the bed.

Never has a night been so peaceful.

• • •

_Two nooses swung in the wind._

If this is to end in fire...

_Lion’s Rest stood high to the west. The Stockades just before him. He struggled against ropes which bound his arms. There was only silence. Not even the harbor’s waves disturbed it. A faceless crowd stood in a wide ring that stretched for leagues around him, spectating, judging._

_The hot sun beat down upon him; all the world could see him, a disgrace._

Then we should all burn together.

_He managed a peek of his captor. He wished he hadn't. Not one but many faces looked upon him with disdain and disappointment as he struggled under their stares and grasp. The faces of those he'd failed, those he'd sacrificed, and those who depended on him._

_Amber. Varian. Edwin. Countless others._

Watching flames climb high into the night.

_His eyes snapped forward. Flynn was already upon the gallows, looking back towards him with a look of sadness poisoning his features._

_Shaw had failed him. It was his fault Flynn was there, sentenced to die. All that was left for him was to be pushed along to his rope necklace as well. A pair of traitors strung together like ornaments._

_The High King's voice sounded in his ears. "You still have a choice to make, Master Shaw." The choice in question was undeniably clear. Anduin walked up to the gallows, stopping behind Flynn. He reached up and pulled one of the ropes down and around Flynn's neck._

_"You have a choice to make, Mattie," Flynn said to him, staring as if straight through him._

_Mathias couldn’t hold back his own tears. This helplessness was the harshest torture. He could either watch Flynn hang or depart this world with him. He needed only to speak to determine if ropes would be added or removed._

_The faces of his captor burned in his eyes. He’s led his life entirely for them. Every decision was for the good of the Alliance; for the good of Azeroth. Any 'self-preserving' choices he has ever made still were not for himself. He’s been a puppet with invisible strings for all his years._

And if we should die tonight...

_What would happen if he made one selfish decision? What would happen if he chose for himself and not for Azeroth. What if he chose his heart over his duty?_

_The answer stood before him, meters away._

_He pulled himself from the grip of his multifaceted captor. He did not need their influence to make his choice._

We shall die together.

_He walked up the stairs of the gallows, taking his place beside Flynn._

**Author's Note:**

> for anyone interested, songs used [in order]:  
> -Hoist the Colors, Hans Zimmer & Ted Elliot  
> -The Parting Glass, Various Artists  
> -The Road Goes Ever On, J. R. R. Tolkien  
> -I see Fire, Ed Sheeran
> 
> song title reference: Perfect Places, Lorde.  
> i really can't not use lorde lyrics for fic titles. it is known.  
> this was supposed to be a happy fluff-tacular fairshaw fic. idk what happened. if my former pseud says anything about me, it's that i can't not write tragedies...


End file.
